


Crosshairs

by Daimhin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daimhin/pseuds/Daimhin
Summary: You're an assassin assigned to eliminate Noctis.





	Crosshairs

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at a string of drabbles to see how well I can contain myself. Brevity isn't my strong point.

A slow swallow, a withheld breath. You held the binoculars firmly against your eyes, following your target as he walked through his apartment. It was a wonder why the Prince of Lucis had such large windows to his personal abode in the city. You didn’t understand it, especially now after weeks of keeping watch.

Your fingers crinkled the blinds at your window, the thin metal bending and grating against the window’s glass as you shifted them further open. The prince was more active today. Leaning back from the binoculars, you peered down at your watch. The prince’s retainers were visiting soon. Not just yet. But soon.

Eyes returning to your target, you watched. Curious.

The prince lay on his back, relaxed and reading a comic book. You couldn’t make out the title of it, and the longer you’d been watching him, the more you wished you could. You idly wondered if today would be the day. Would they send the order?

As three others joined him in his apartment, a small part of you hoped that it wouldn’t be today. At least not while the retainers were present. You didn’t want to have to eliminate them all. The prince smiled —his first of the day— at the arrival of the others. You stilled, breath quieting, and lowered the binoculars. A disturbed blink, the shifting of the blinds as they closed.

You put the binoculars down with trembling hands that were trained to never shake.

—

Walking the aisles of the local grocer, you put the obligatory box of condoms into your basket to ward off the wandering eyes of other shoppers. Lucians were strange about sexuality. You used anything to your advantage to keep what little privacy you had while being out in public.

Before you began your routine for the usual rations, you paused at the sight of a familiar bespectacled face. The prince’s advisor. If he was at this shop, that meant— He turned down an aisle, and you followed at a distance. He was cooking dinner tonight. Without thinking, you carefully trailed him through the store. You picked up what he picked up, keeping the condoms on top. Always on top. To deflect.

The advisor considered two carrots that looked exactly the same to you. Your watch beeped, and you lifted it to turn off the reminder. The prince would be awake from his usual nap by now. You were wasting valuable time following the advisor. He appeared almost done. With the alarm off, you moved forward, intent to finish the ill-considered act of copying him.

You walked directly into someone’s back. Shoulders raised, basket shaking in hand, the advisor turned around. He looked at you. Wide eyes, hand adjusting glasses. This was bad.

Smile. It felt unnatural, but it was in place. “I’m sorry.”

He eased. “The aisles are rather narrow.”

Smile more. You felt like you were just baring your teeth. A nod, and you made to walk around him. But he spoke again. Keep smiling.

“Ah, you dropped—”

You turned to him to find the box of condoms in his hand. He held it out, falling silent. You took it with a quiet thanks. Putting them back on top, always on top, you looked up to find his gaze lingering on the contents of your basket.

This was worse. The momentary confusion on his expression was forgotten when his phone began to ring in his pocket. You took that moment to escape.

Back in your nest, you unloaded everything with a sense of regret. You’d temper your curiosity from now on. You put the condoms with the other boxes in a corner, sixteenth in your collection. All unopened. You couldn’t believe you’d been watching for that many weeks.

You opened your blinds just enough, binoculars in hand. Across the street, the advisor entered your target’s apartment. You considered tapping the place as they spoke. The prince’s hair was tousled from sleep. It was nice. You ignored the thought.

Telling yourself this would be the end of your curiosity, you began to follow the recipe as the advisor set to work.

—

This was the fifth time you’d followed your target here. The machines rattled and chimed. It was crowded with children and older-but-still-young people. You’d grown used to the noise but could recall the confusion of the first visit.

He toured the machines with his friend. The blonde one. They had a routine, and you knew it by heart. He would beat his friend three times in a fighting game before his friend would give up. They would shoot zombies on a wide screen. His friend would yelp ceaselessly, but his character would die first. His friend was adept with firearms. Noted.

Then they would race. It was the only time you heard his voice in person. Swears tossed at his friend in between bouts of laughter. It was charming.

Terrible thought. It went ignored.

You blended in with a Jetty’s, taking place in front of Justice Monsters Five. The dings of it were a song you enjoyed. An acquired interest, like everything else about this life in Insomnia.

You hadn’t been trained for this. You hadn’t been trained for him. But you knew how to adapt. That, at least, was in your discipline.

You kept an eye on him. The dinging and rattling of your game grew cacophonous. Your eyes left your target to focus on the pinball machine. You’d beaten the highest score.

Oh.

People appeared around you. They spoke at once, nonsense in your ears. It itched. There were numerous knives concealed on your person. It would be easy. You weren’t made to dispatch them, though.

What a shame.

You continued to play, eyes going to your target. You tensed when he was no longer there. No. He was your only reason for being here. A wall of people surrounded you. Sending wide eyes around yourself, your hands left the buttons on the machine. The wall became a round of gasps and complaints.

You pushed through. Escape. You needed to leave. You were here for him. No, you were here to keep an eye on him. Not— not for him.

Beyond the small crowd, you had to stop. There he was. The high score you’d abandoned must’ve been important. Because, horribly, terribly, exactly what you didn’t want to ever happen, the Prince of Lucis was looking at you.

Your lips curled inward, tucked between your front teeth. You bit down, uncomfortable. Unprepared. His eyes should never meet yours. Never.

You pushed past him. You ran.

—

He was a relaxed silhouette in your crosshairs. It had been seventeen hours since you’d received the message.

_ Standby. _

Today was the day. You’d expected it to be different, but no. It was unremarkable. Your target slept in late. His advisor visited to wake him and prepare a meal. Once alone again, he worked. Briefly. Now he read. Everything was as usual.

You could see through the scope that he was reading another comic book. You were unable to read the title still. He seemed to be drifting. It slowly lowered closer to his face until it covered him.

You smiled, then schooled it. He rested between your crosshairs. One word. Only one word, and it wouldn’t matter what the title was on the pages that covered his face. They would shred on impact, misted by the gore of him. You’d do that. You’d destroy him. It’s what you were made to do.

Your hands shook. Biting the inside of your cheek, you lowered your rifle. You put it down, leaning it against the wall by the window. A walk. Just a pace around your rented space. You could do that until the word came.

An hour of this didn’t help. You couldn’t relax. Today couldn’t be the day. No day could.

—

The bookstore smelled so different from the one you’d used to visit back home. It had been musty and comforting. This one was all ink and plastic. You weren’t going to think about home. You’d never see home again.

The false start had made you question your legitimacy. Would you still be alive once you’d succeded in your mission? Would you want to be? How could your purpose be so easily postponed? These thoughts plagued you but remained repressed.

You’d followed him here for the first —and last, you told yourself— time. You had to know what he’d been reading. It appeared to be obscure, the series of comic books. He was bent, looking at the few the store held on a lower shelf.

You pretended to be interested in a graphic novel about an assassin. The first couple of pages presented long panels without dialogue. Entire pages, even. As you wondered if this was normal for comic books, you were startled to hear a voice.

“That’s a good one.”

You looked up from the pages to see your target standing in front of you. A comic book in hand, he nodded at the one in your own. You looked from him to the book.

“Um, if you’re into action.”

Looking up at his unexpected explanation, you were confused by the light tint of pink that came to his face. He nodded again, this time in farewell. When he passed you, he left a light wake of citrus and musk.

The book curled in your hands. Unbelievable.

You slowly turned to watch him check out. He looked back at you once before leaving. The blush was still on his face. His eyebrows were drawn. Confusion, it seemed. You couldn’t move. He’d more than seen you. He’d noticed. Suddenly, your every question had been answered.

You were never going home again. You weren’t going to succeed; you’d already failed. Uncurling the comic book, you looked at the assassin on the cover. They were in someone’s crosshairs themselves.

When the order finally did come, you hoped he would end you first. It felt as if he already had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> Find me on tumblr as _ohdaim_


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